Elements
by tsuki-nin
Summary: Please read the authoress' note at beginning . All beings were of an Element. They were cared for by them since all elements had children. They were one with them. —drabble series—
1. Earth

_**Elements**_

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><p><em><strong>I<strong>_

_**Earth**_

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><p>I usually put these things at the end, but this is quite important:<p>

This is based on a post by **koolkidpage** on the becoming human blog. To be absolutely precise, it's update # 38 —if I recall correctly—, post #9079, march 28, 2011. I'm pretty sure I asked for **kkp**'s permission, but if not, please **koolkid**, tell me. I'll either remove this or let it linger here —if you allow me to—.

(I'm Ely Riverbank)

Pardon my English, it is not my native language. You're welcome to come to my profile to see which one is ;).

Please note this fanfiction does not strive to be accurate since it was written in the spur of the thing.

**Disclaimer****:** I will say this once, and only once; I don't own Being Human and related materials. If I did, I wouldn't have killed off Mitchell that fast because I think he's such a complex character It would be very fun to write for.

The way I see this, this would qualify as a one-shot divided into four chapters just for the sake of simplicity.

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><p><em>Humans are children of Earth. <em>

_They grow and change, they die but are reborn. They grow back stronger, hardier than before. Their roots run deep, and bind them together. They have seen out the years as a race, as a species, not as individuals. For though the leaves may wither and die in the winter, brighter and more beautiful buds appear in the springtime, in tandem with the natural ebb and flow of nature._

~**koolkidpage**

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><p>Earthlings were very much like a spiral staircase, rather than a tree.<p>

_But wasn't a tree a perfect analogy, always going up—forwards?_

A spiral staircase forever repeated itself, always sound an never at the same points. It sprout up upwards, just like a springtime bud. And just like all earthly things, it was doomed to crumble and fade. It was nature's natural way of doing things. Things may fade away into the twilight but they'll remain as a whole —_as a species_—, so long they persevere.

_History._

Mankind's greatest achievement. Prowess after prowess, showing off humanity in its prime, with all its might. And yet, despite being so artificial, constructed so to showcase the best and worst, it still managed to look like humanity —humans cannot comprehend perfection for all things they did ended being like them—. A growing tree, a staircase into the sky.

The best trait of humanity:

_Perseverance_.

For when man would fade into obscurity, his work would tower over it, leaving a legacy, outlasting it. Be it his children, his genius or the kind words said to a stranger, man had the bliss of knowing there will be a bit of them behind. They did not despair about their work.

Humanity as a whole was quaint. Beautiful. An incongruous all-encompassing whole, wherein none were the wiser and all were equal in death. Just like the countryside, the sheer variety there was of humans astounded everyone. Earthlings and Ethereals and Fangs and Claws alike.

_Death._

Humanity knew the _bliss_ of death. Not so much as that of passing away but that of being able to move on to give way to new life. They did not cling to existence for they could not —however, most of them would attempt to stay beyond their years—.

Humanity feared death for they loved the world _as a species_, they'd top their magnum opus time and time again just to discover, to _feel_, to grab a sense of what was the world; why did they had to pass away.

_Stubborn_.

Man was stubborn. Man would grab onto life, refuse to pass on. For Man was attached to the Earth —_they_ were _her_ children, after all— and did not want to waste any moment on her (as a _whole_), they wanted to _discover_, and like all children, longed to leave the mother's nest.

That's why multiple obsessions, that's why the ever-advancing technology. The boats, the planes. Travelling all over Earth. It's a way of leaving behind where you were born. Because no man would allow chains to be latched on his spirit. Every man, woman and child would fight to be free.

So people would leave their homeland in an act of stubbornness. And they would stay for generations despite there being natural disasters (1), despite all odds. Man once said: _My lands are where my dead lie buried _(2). Children of the Earth are stout, and stand their ground, just like trees.

_Growth._

Humanity grew, like a tree. Sometimes disasters, calamities and such happened, and it felt horrible, like pruning a tree. _It hurt_. But they would overcome that, even in most dire circumstances when it would appear Man was overwhelmed. Just like a tree blossomed when coppiced year after year, so would mankind blossom, calamity after calamity.

_It did not matter_. For Man was born to grow, to etch his branches and try to tickle the sky —_Man could try, for mankind held onto dreams_—. Man was born to sprawl its roots all over the world, just to explore every corner and crevice. And it was beautiful, for the Earth was beautiful. And she let herself be taken by the growth of Man, _what else is a mother to do, but to let her offspring grow?_

_Year._

Every man and woman was like the year. _Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. Seed, Bud, Growth, Death. Childhood, Teenage, Adulthood, Senility_. Everything was divided in fours. It was beautiful. Winter gave way to Spring, old Trees gave way to Seedlings, old Men gave way to children. It's a cycle to beget beauty, all time. And every man and woman experiences this cycle firsthand. Old things are made anew over and over.

The times of Man were like the year also. _Lag, Log, Stationary, Decline _(3). Men were like everything else in the Earth. They yielded and gave way. Like the animals, rivers, coasts mountains and everything in the big, blue orb.

_Space_.

Humanity was obsessed with space. As Earth was all encompassing so was the desire of her children to flee her. It was only natural for birds to flee the nest. So Mankind grew obsessed with it, wanting to _conquer_ —as birds lorded over the air—.

So Humanity would make crafts and go up above _to touch the stars_ —like a nightingale drinking the moon drip by drip (4)—, to _have_ them, to _possess_ them. Because humanity longs to leave the Earth and make a world of its own.

Even then, however, Mankind longed for the Earth. After all, what brought everybody to tears, even in the distant future? _An_ _image of a blue orb like a spec of dust in space_. For a child always longed for her mother.

_Humanity __is__ the Earth_.

They, like the Earth, spawned; spawned everything else. Fangs may hate to admit it, and Claws and Ethereals may choose to mourn it, but they could not exist without being human first.

_Man is all-encompassing_.

And it would stay that way until the world was torn apart and forged again.

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><p>(1) As I write this, I'm thinking of the Tornado Belt in USA.<p>

(2) Chief Crazy Horse said this. He was an Oglala Lakota chief, who lived ca. 1840 – 5 September, 1877.

(3) This are the phases of a microorganism growth curve, which may be compared with economic grow or history cycles.

(4) This is a common figure in romantic poems in Spanish —common enough for people to recognise it upon hearing it, anyway—. Either I) the nightingale got so enamoured by the moon it drank a lake to kiss it or II) it got so greedy that in drank a lake to have it. It's beautiful. (And definitely lost in translation)

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><p><strong>Authoress' Place<strong>

There it is. Please tell me what you think.

I kind of wanted to include Lucy Jaggat and Kemp or something. There are so few human characters in the Being Human universe that I just edited them out *sighs* to make these much more easy to write.


	2. Air

_**II**_

_**Air**_

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><p><em>Ghosts are children of Air.<em>

_They are everywhere, and yet go unnoticed by most. They may attempt to affect those who do not see them, but they are dismissed. But they can hold unexpected power. They are no longer connected to earth, or any of the people in it. But if they so choose, they can make their mark upon the world as much as the living. They know secrets told only to the dead, and may whisper them softly into the minds of a chosen few. And so change their lives. For better... Or worse._

~**koolkidpage**

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><p>A ghost was as meaningless as the passing wind.<p>

_Can you see the Air? And can you see ghosts?_

Ghosts are all the whispers of a life gone by. All the moments that passed away and will never come back. It still lingers. They're Ethereal. _Just like the Air_. For the Air is invisible, except to its children.

Ethereals see the world in a very different light. Some say it's because _death_ gives you a whole _new_ perspective. _Lies._ Ethereals see the Air and the colours that it carries in the wind (1). Whispers and smiles. Yet, they would never comment on that. Just as an Earthling can touch always, so an Ethereal can see the Air. As it's something so _common_, so _unremarkable_, they don't remember ever not being able to do it. Why should they?

Upon death they're bestowed with a new father.

_Can you feel the Air? Neither can them._

Ethereals are so unearthly that they feel nothing. Nothing perturbs them. They're just an essence, just like the vague breeze caressing your cheek in spring. But they see it, just as you touch. They don't touch. However, they are connected to all living things, just like the Air. After all, how do organisms respire?

This connection is not tangible. It's the business remorse or grief had. It's like the invisible bonds to which we are bound to air. This _impotence_ to touch the Air reflects the very misery of being a spirit: _what child wouldn't want her father's touch?_

And some extended their hands to the sky and wailed.

_They know secrets._

The very same secrets their father whisper to their ears. Do not anger a spirit! Wary you should be of all the secrets lurking in dark corners. Easily dismissed, they loom aver people's lives and wait. They see, they wait. Any time to escape their eternal prison. _They hear_.

Neither _here_ nor _there_, doors talk to them, soothe them and reveal them secrets only known to those above. They may choose friends. And they'll get to know them very well.

_They whisper_.

Even when they can't be seen or heard, they whisper. For their voice is the only thing that will transcend their Ethereal state, when their thoughts become one with the Air. They can choose to help or to torment.

They may bestow secrets upon those alive, choosing to drive them mad or to open their eyes. And the others will listen, because _you cannot escape spirits anymore than can escape wind_. It will always be there. And so _they_ will.

_Ghosts move on._

Ethereals were not made to stay in one place. They need to be able to come and go as they please. When they stay in one place they shrink, just as the air is rare when in one place and not moving for too long.

They are not to stay in the Earth, for they do not belong. _It's too solid, too hostile_. Ghosts are delicate. Even evil ones will move one. This is not their place, so they travel. Just like the wind. Will the breeze of today be the same wind of tomorrow? Of course not. Air moves on.

_They are powerful._

Spirit are unleashed onto this world to be onlookers, whisperers and protectors, from the unfinished tales of Man.

They may protect what they hold dear or what they've _found_ to hold dear. This, along with antiquity gives them _power_. Not as a force, but a strength, a testament of their endurance in this world. And they may use this newfound power to feed their wrath or their joy.

They're like the Wind of the Gods, unleashed onto invaders to protect the rising sun (2), invisible: all the more terrible.

_Paranoia_.

Ghosts are everywhere, until there's no more sky to travel.

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><p>(1) I was thinking of Pocahontas as I wrote this.<p>

(2) I'm referring to Kamikaze, the Divine Wind that it is said to be sent by the Gods to protect Japan —which is, as you'll surely know, the Land of the Rising Sun—.

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><p><strong>Authoress' Place<strong>

Well, let's hope you like this half-assed attempt at describing ghost's nature.


	3. Water

_**III**_

_**Water**_

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><p><em>Werewolves are children of Water.<em>

_They change like the tides, tied to the power of the moon. They may seem tranquil, even normal, on the surface, but brewing beneath the water is an unimaginable power, capable of killing in seconds. It cannot be tamed, it cannot be broken. It is the raw power of nature, and when it comes crashing down, all you can do is beg for mercy at her hands._

~**koolkidpage**

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><p>A werewolf is ever-changing, despite being always the same; just like the Water scarring the Earth.<p>

_They were like the changing tides._

Forever tied to the moon, waning and waxing with her, just like she controlled the waters to her fancy. So as the waters arose, covering the shores; so their primeval strength did, frightening the others. Their power was terrible.

A gnash begot Nails which turned to Claws. And so the Claws shake up their fist, some cowering in terror unable to accept their own nature, and some with zeal completely accepting of the beast within.

They move with chaotic harmony, one after the other, gnash after scar. _Victim begets victim begets victim_, in all its cruel irony. But so did the tides. They rose and lower just like the chest of a maid, the blanket over her chest —and blanket they were, covering the Earth—.

_They're wild._

They were liberated, yet viewed as a cursed. All their instincts unleashed, able to perceive the worlds in ways that since before the Fire Man has long forgotten, in its antediluvian rampage to destroy, to behold and to _crush_. Because the perception of might is the less forgotten feeling, something so deep inside and fundamental to the human being.

Just as the waters cannot be tamed so couldn't they. Waters run amok when the dam breaks, and so did they when the moon waxed, all other human controls crumbled before the presents of the instincts, the body changed and leapt on the night. Sure, there were ways to avoid _casualties_, but _could you control the beast_?

_Primeval._

They were there first. Maybe not with the _Wolf_, but as long as Earthlings have been conscious of water —_always_—, they have been there. Forever with a blessing, carried on from generation to generation, since dawn, until the Earth was no more.

Everything was _raw_ about them. Their might, their feelings. They could love and would not tolerate lying, most of the time relying in anything bt the most basic set of emotions to carry them forward. Such an old thing—did it need anything else?

Since the beginning, it was perfect, one with the _essence_ of life in its initial crystalline beauty.

_Strength._

For that is what they were; pure, raw, _angry_ strength. Once empowered by the sweet moon they were unstoppable. They could leap higher, see better; their eyes so accurate they almost _raped_ night's intimacy. No Fang could stop them and not even all the power of the world could compete with them.

They didn't have any weakness but what they chose to believe in (1), and their when their bones broke, it was only to present them back _stronger_, their skin _tougher_, and their claws longer.

_Anguish._

Have you heard the cries of a beast? They are heartbroken, forever unable to abide by the rules of society —oh, but the can _try_, as all things spawned by humans seem to do—. They ballade to the moon, to let it out of the chest once a month, yet they're like a child crying for their mother, trying to reclaim what they have long lost know.

The _Wolf_, almost seems to feed on it, each full moon coming out sadder and stronger and despicable. Oh—why are you _feeding_ it? The _Wolf_ is only trying to give them the strength to overcome the anguish in this cruel world —which is why, some say, the more _accepting_ one was of their true nature, the more confident you became—.

_Betrayal._

For that is what happened should you give into it, your own body betrayed. The _Wolf_ knew no one but the pack, and as such they would not recognise others. Everyone was in danger. Yet it was _so useful_, to be strong, leap and be able to rip your enemies throat —did you just _kill_ your family?

Children of the water felt betrayed, no matter where they went, by the whole great world. Were they? They could not trust themselves to be around people. They could not trust others in fear they might turn on them. A healthy paranoia and sense of disenchantment pounded through their betrayed beings.

_Peaceful_.

They were peaceful. More than any others, they were capable of contemplating nature, for hours without end, much like the water can stay still long before corrupting itself. They loved everything, and even when they were reluctant to admit it, they communed with the Earth.

Everywhere where there was water, their mother would soothe them and whisper to them sweet things to calm heir fearful child. They longed for blue seas, green countryside with a clear river leaping on it, a house besides a lake, a summer rain. They longed to be with their mother, like all children do.

_Winter_.

They were conscious of their own mortality, more than any other _breathing_ being. To kill and be killed, the motto, the law of tooth and claw everybody abided to; accepting the twilight of all things just like all things fade into winter, some to never come back.

_It soothed_. For in winter was the only season when even far from a body of water, water was surrounding them. _They had their mother_. They would cry less, be more upbeat, because of the falling rain and sweet snow. What, was there something else that mattered? Strolling down the _pureness_ of the snow, desecrating it —such ignorance, a _good mother_ doesn't turn back on her child— and feeling it.

They would go naked, if they could, into the winter. The wind hurt them less, the cold did not stab them. Just feeling the water all around them. It was _beautiful_. The crystals on their hands. Why would they need anything else?

_Static._

All Claws could be described as that, ever static. Despite changing, they did so in cycles and ever staying the same. Sure, they'll come to pass, but their mind would stay sharp and their fitness would not deteriorate. Why should it? It has _always_ been the same.

Just like the water we drink today was drunk by the dinosaurs, so their mind would stay static even when all else fades. As water changes —_melting, evaporating, solidifying_—, so they changed —_earthling-like, bone-breaking, Beast_—. And yet they weren't any less _themselves_ that they were wolf. And it _scared_ them.

_Unmovable._

Werewolves will stay until water vanishes and life withers.

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><p>(1) I don't recall silver bullets being yet in Being Human lore, so I'm just assuming they're not essential to kill a werewolf.<p>

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><p><strong>Authoress' Place<strong>

You know, even though I like water a lot, it was so hard to relate werewolves to water. They are kind of their own thing.


	4. Fire

_**IV**_

_**Fire**_

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><p><em>Vampires are children of Fire.<em>

_They consume and spread, and burn anyone who gets too close. A breath of wind may put out the flames, or spread them further. They are dangerous and unpredictable, vollatile __[sic] __and unquenchable. If a flame is put out, it is gone forever, but for the rare times it cheats it's__ [sic]__ own demise, leaving glowing embers which may, with help, be rekindled._

~**koolkidpage.**

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><p>Vampires are destroyers despite wanting to nurture.<p>

_They are made_.

Vampires are but a result of nature. Just like _water_ created, _earth_ nurtured and wind was but a shadow of what had been, so _Fire_ was made to make the _wind_ come true.

They exist since Earthlings knew Fire, so the Fire enticed the Thirst, which gave way to Teeth ripping flesh, to Fangs drinking blood. Since they saw light so has the world known destruction. The world _made_ them. It _needed_ them for destruction. For all things would have to become past.

And long after the first ones were made so have they begotten more of them, _cursing_ them, forever walking.

_Burn._

Vampires burnt. Always have. They're like the flames of a campfire: first they are so weak that a gust of wind may put them off, but throw in a flame; an older one, a _stronger_ one and they'll burn as the blazing sun —they sought company to survive, created communities, _covens_, just as the Fire became one with other flames—.

They hurt. Because they burnt. To feed they sought the destruction of another being, so they could stand atop their curse. They fed on the Earthlings, much like the fire burnt the trees and scorched the soil.

_Spread._

Vampires were like the plague. Too many of them and the world would wither and die; too little and they too would fade, although in a much slower fashion. When one drank blood at death (1) they spread like a wildfire. It was so fast, there wasn't even time to think about what you had become.

Fangs would fight to reach where no one had ever reached before, to _spread_ —weren't they a species with _reproductive_ needs?—, to attempt to _spawn_ new life even though it was a mockery of birth. When one becomes a vampire they are _birthed_ —or so they wish— into a new life.

_Unpredictable._

What went through their minds? No one could say. Not even other vampires could tell you. That made them _dangerous_, as they did need not to cling to mundane things to make their will come true. The can _wait_—or not.

They went through their long lives just like the fire, dancing in an erratic way. They could spread—or not. As their power grew, so did their unpredictability, because of newfound ability to msk feelings and make split-second decisions. They learnt _not_ to trust any instinct but destruction, for not doing so would be death.

They were as gullible as they were volatile—_beware_!

_Unquenchable._

The thirst of Fire for things to burn could not be stopped. Even when trying, a vampire would not lay off the _thirst_. How everything _vibrated_ with life made them _so much_ thirstier, living amongst the living only intensified the _craving_. Ultimately, it could not be contained.

The longing of the fang for the flesh drove them mad, and all their machinations centred about surviving —only a _deranged_ soul would seek to dominate, for that wasn't the Fire's place— so that they could bring sorrow upon the world, harbingers of destruction.

_Frozen._

They could only exist in a _sole_ state; that of unquenchable hunger, just like fire couldn't exist any other way that wasn't burning. It was so _ironic_ that while water froze, it could melt, whereas the Fire cannot be put out or else it would _die_.

They did not age, just like the Fire just burnt ablaze; they just became mightier and fearsome. And they would only return to the Earth when they turned into ashes, just like the wood that lit the Fire —even when the Fire _corrupted_ it could not change the truth about things so vampires would belong to the Earth when stabbed—.

They were an evolutionary _dead end_, for they could not change. (2)

_Longevity_.

Vampires could live impressing and long lifespans, and Old Ones, really Old Ones were so old, so ancient —like the Fire of Asia (3)—, it was difficult to grasp how something can be walking the Earth for so long.

But Fire was a doting father, and would give his offspring loathsome instincts for them to survive and walk the Earth for years to come. I might be _cruel_, but any father would want his offspring to be _strong_, to not fade and be no more.

And yet they were bitter _because_ of their longevity. Because, unlike Earthlings, they'll come to know the time when their work crumbles and vanishes. Nothing outlasts them.

_Fade._

Vampires will fade when the twilight comes and can destroy no more.

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><p>(1) I can't remember how they made vampires in the Being Human universe. Methinks they drank vampire blood upon death.<p>

(2) TAKE THAT HERRICK!

(3) In Udwada, India, there's a fire temple —a temple for Zoroastrianism— where the flame itself has burnt for over a thousand years. The fire has burnt in that place since 1742. In Iran there's an even older one, in Yazd, Iran, where the flame fas been burning since 470 AD. These are both places of Zoroastrian worship.

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><p><strong>Authoress' Place<strong>

Well, there it is. I might add new chapters about other elements if new species come. In fact, I've been thinking Type-4 or zombies might be metal —In some cosmologies, such as Chinese, metal is the fifth element, others include Wood and aether—.

I hope you enjoyed it.

So, how was my splitted-into-four-10-page-long one-shot? I hope you enjoyed it. Not bad for having being made between yesterday and today —all of it—? (see publish date), It's about 4:40 am right now.

I really loved _koolkidpage_'s idea, so I ran with it —one more time, I hope I did ask permission (I didn't check nor I can remember, I just copied and pasted the post when he was bickering with Andrew Carralack that very same day)—.

My internet is a bit iffy and won't let me check :(.


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